


These Quiet Spaces.

by withoutwords



Category: Cuffs (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 23:38:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5311445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withoutwords/pseuds/withoutwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He moves his body closer, ducks his head, and when Jake looks up Ryan knows that something has shifted. They’ve just been orbiting until now, so, so slow, and they’ve finally locked into something here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Quiet Spaces.

**Author's Note:**

> I just needed to get this show and these two out of my system! I’m overwhelmed with love for it at all at the moment, haha.
> 
> I also ship Jake/Simon and hope Jake gets a happy ending, but this does cast some negative light on that relationship just so you know.
> 
> I hope you like it :)

There’s a cigarette butt still lit and smoking on the ground, crumpled from the shake and stress of fingers. Jake had thrown it away once his hands had given up, once he realised it wasn’t going to help. Ryan remembers that feeling, though, the desperation to find something that might make it easier. He can’t begrudge him that. Not right now.

It was a bad one. Bad enough that Ryan could still feel it twisting in his guts. Bad enough that he would keep saying _it_ for a while because whatever they found, whatever was left, he wasn’t ready to give it a name. Someone’s mother, brother, child. Someone’s everything.

“You alright?”

Jake huffs, dipping his head just a little. He says, “Yeah. Sure,” but Ryan’s seen him rattled enough to know it isn’t true. 

“If you need to go and talk to someone…”

“What, one of those people with their head in the textbook, you mean?”

“It’s not like that,” Ryan argues, hard edged, because he’s still not ready for this. For Jake to know him so well, after no time at all.

“I’m fine – I just,” Jake looks away. It’s dark, but the flashing lights glow across every corner of the street. There are voices filtering down - sombre, game-over voices, slow and heavy – and it feels so sad. It feels like the funeral they’ll never attend. “D’you want to go get a drink?”

“A drink?

“Oh, don’t you – sorry, I should’ve thought - ”

“I drink, Jake,” Ryan says wryly, his arms folding across his chest for effect. “You know, not enough to be throwing up the next day but - ”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Jake allows a small smile at that. His cheeks are a darker shade of red than usual, his hands still obviously shaking even though they’re hidden behind his vest. He’s more sensitive than the men Ryan’s worked with before, or at least more willing to show it; but he’s got a lot of spirit too.

Ryan used to think he’d have quit by now.

“I know a place,” Ryan finally says, and this makes Jake smile again. Ryan’s glad.

“Oh, a place, really? What, with a telly in the corner playing football?”

“You don’t like football?”

Jake splutters a little, shrugging his shoulders, the seizing line of his spine seeming to relax a little. Unwind. “Well, sure, I mean - ”

“See, you just think, just ‘cause I’m not gonna take you to _The Leather Bar_ or whatever it is that you - ”

“That’s not a place - ”

Ryan gets a hand around the back of Jake’s neck, and starts nudging him in the direction of the car. “Let’s just go, yeah? You can buy me a pint and maybe I can convince you to like football.”

“I like it, okay, it’s fine.”

Ryan keeps his hand there as they head back down the street.

*

Monique kept a photo of the three of them, tucked in her uniform. Ryan, Corey and Nicky asleep and cuddled up on the sofa. He saw her play with it sometimes, when she was home, run her fingers over it again and again.

“You’ll wear it out,” he had said to her, and she’d laughed at him. Just soft, just fun, the way she was when she wasn’t working. Just herself.

“I’ve got a box full, Ry.”

“That’s good.”

“I’ve got a _life_ full, Ry,” she amended, and said, “To here, you know,” and she was clutching at her chest and she was smiling. 

*

Ryan’s dad had a drinking problem that he passed to Ryan’s mum, that he almost passed to Ryan before Ryan found the police force. It wasn’t the loud, unavoidable problem, it didn’t wake the neighbours at night or have the local patrol at their like Ryan and Jake do every other day.

It was quiet, and pervasive. Ryan’s dad drank so much he didn’t have time for anything else. Work, survival, _them_. Ryan’s dad was easy to let go of, like waves rolling in and eating away at the shore. It was like he was never there.

“I _hate_ you.”

Jake’s dad, though, _is_ right here. He leads, and he directs and he hovers, and Ryan’s not surprised it has come to this. To Jake with his hands fisted tight in Vickers’ collar, and Ryan trying to pull him off.

“I hate you so much,” he yells again, and he slams the Chief’s back a little harder into the wall. They’re at the station but it’s abandoned, and if there’s any one else around they wouldn’t be brave enough to show their faces. “How can you talk to me like none of it matters?”

“Jake, come on,” Ryan tries, an arm around him and a hand on his chest but he might as well not be there. Jake hasn’t even acknowledged that he is.

“Of course it matters,” Vickers shoots back, hushed and weary but humbled, suddenly reminiscent of his son. Ryan rarely sees their similarities. “Your mother - ”

“She knows, she knows exactly what you’re like, you arsehole, you complete, fucking arsehole.”

“Jake,”

Jake pushes Vickers once more than lets go, wrenching out of Ryan’s grip and shouting, “ _Get off me_ , Ryan,” as if he’s tempted to push Ryan around too. Ryan watches him walk out of sight, punching at the walls as he goes. He hopes Vickers is silent and walks the other way, he hopes not to be brought into the ring. He can’t fight.

“Constable. If you - ”

“Sir,” Ryan says abruptly, turning to look at Vickers with as little emotion as possible. “Good night.”

When he finds Jake he’s collapsed on the floor, his knees up and his back against the lockers. Ryan finds a safe distance to sit, letting his elbows rest, letting the silence roll on for a while. Jake’s always happy to talk about the state of things, but he’s also happy to keep his mum’s life her own. To be quiet.

“I haven’t seen my dad in twenty years,” Ryan tells him, and it echoes a little. “I don’t even know if he’s alive.”

“If you’re trying to tell me - ”

“I’m not _trying_ to do anything, mate, I’m _telling_ ya. My mum’s got problems and my dad’s not even here, Jake. It’s not - ”

He looks over to see that Jake is watching him. Is waiting. Ryan swallows down whatever this is that he’s feeling. This protectiveness is different, the kind he usually reserves for his family. 

“It’s not right, what he did-”

“What he’s _doing_ ,” Jake says, but it’s without heat.

“It’s not right, but it’s not – you can’t fix something you didn’t break. Not the way you want.”

Jakes eyes look shiny under the light. He ducks his head again. “You sound like my mum.”

Ryan huffs. “She’s a special woman.”

“She is,” Jake says, and there’s no room for doubt. Ryan didn’t, anyway.

*

Ryan’s had a lot of partners in his time, but never something like Donna and Lino. Familial, and honest; like Donna pushing Lino on his fitness and then glaring at anyone else who tries to do the same. Or early on, when Lino called Alice to find out what food Donna liked so he knew what restaurant to book for her birthday.

Respect, and reliance, and trust. A completely, unconditional trust.

“That looks cozy,” Lino says dryly, looking over to where Jake is with the solicitor at the bar. Reddington’s got a hand on Jake’s lower back, his nose brushing against his face like he’s trying to mark him.

“Doesn’t it just,” Ryan says with even less amusement, that familiar feeling rising up in his throat. From day one Reddington’s been the worst thing about Jake; flirting in the middle of a work day like getting his end away is somehow helpful to the public at large.

“Oh, you don’t know,” Donna chimed in. “It could be love.”

“Isn’t it always when you’re that young,” Lino says, and then scrunches up his face. “Christ, how young _is_ he?”

“Young enough not to know better,” Donna laughs and then slams her glass down. “Ryan! You’re up.”

“ _Get in_ ,” Lino says, gulping at the last of his beer before slamming his own glass down. “Do us proud, son.”

“When’s it your turn?” Ryan teases, but he’s getting up, and pushing his chair back. “Next year?”

“I’m waiting for the perfect moment.”

“When we’ve all left,” Donna says, kicking him, and Lino’s got her in a headlock just as Ryan’s getting out from the table. The solicitor’s still at the bar, but Jake’s not there, and for reasons Ryan’s not really sure of he goes to stand right next to Reddington, elbow to elbow. 

To be fair, Ryan understands the attraction. He’s not Ryan’s type, too _expensive_ , too sure of himself. But he’s not ugly. He’s suave, and he moves his body in a way that suggests he knows exactly what to do with it. 

Reddington smirks at Ryan, like he can guess what Ryan’s thinking. “I hear that I’m the enemy?”

Ryan shrugs. “I have a lot of those.”

“I’m sure you do, Constable,” Reddington says lowly, flickering his glance to where Jake’s returning from the bathroom. He’s looking at the two of them with his brow creased, like it’s the strangest thing he’s ever seen (that’s saying a lot). “But does Jake have to, as well?”

*

Ryan spent hours researching parkour. He watched videos, and read testimonials and even, in a moment of weakness, called a man who ran a centre for beginners. He _hates_ it. He hates the thought of all the bodies he’s had to help scrape off the road, the thought of seeing Corey’s face disappearing into a body bag. Into darkness. 

“What are we doing here?” Corey asks with disdain, as they pull up to the station.

Ryan hates it, but he doesn’t want Corey to lose the things he’s excited about. He doesn’t want him to wander through life without searching. Without hope. Monique would have done this. He’s sure of it.

“We’re training.”

“Why?”

“You want to… jump around and pitch yourself off tall buildings, or whatever - ”

Corey sits up suddenly in his seat; the grin slowly unfurling is enough to make Ryan’s whole week. “Seriously? Dad, are you - ”

“There are gonna be rules,” Ryan cuts in. “Rules that you will follow or you will regret it. You won’t be running around the streets. You won’t be skipping class. But – but if it’s what you wanna do, then you’ve gotta be prepared. You’re gonna get strong, train with professionals, do it properly.”

“Wow. _Wow_.”

Ryan fights off a smile. “Let’s go.”

*

The truth is, work is a lot of nothing. Of circling streets, and tapping their fingers and just waiting for something to happen. That’s the hardest thing to accept – the worst part of being a policeman. (Of serving in any way, he knows.) It’s when you get used to the bad things, expect the worst, and feel like you haven’t served any real purpose without it.

Ryan tries to enjoy the calm, but it hasn’t worked yet.

“ _Men_ ,” Jake says suddenly, from his seat next to Ryan in the car. He’s exasperated, running his hands through his hair so much it spikes like a hedgehog. Ryan shouldn’t smile, but he does. “ _Shit_ , why am I gay?”

Ryan scoffs, reluctant to take his eyes off the road. “Do you want my opinion, or…?”

“No, seriously, I’ve got my dad who – _is my dad_ , and now Simon with his _open relationship_ and that guy, that guy trying to pull _at the garage_ today who smelt like – Jesus, what did he even smell like?”

“Uh…”

“That’s what I have in my life, Ryan, I mean, it’s just. I’m just _pathetic_.”

Ryan takes the bait he’s not sure Jake meant to cast and asks, “Open relationship?” even if he knows exactly what that means. The thought of it – of Jake being used like that – makes Ryan’s blood simmer. He actually feels hot, his hands are tightening around the wheel.

“You know,” Jake says, twirling a hand. “The opposite of being exclusive.”

“Right. And that’s not what you want.”

“ _No_. It’s not what I want.” 

“Okay. So end it.” Jake’s quiet, and when Ryan glances over he’s looking at him with those shrewd eyes. That stupid smirk. “What?”

“You’re not giving your kids relationship advice are you?”

“No. I drop them off at school wearing full gear. They don’t have relationships.”

Jake’s laughter rings out so loud Ryan’s almost shocked by it. It’s sad that he hasn’t been hearing it much lately; that Jake has been silence by tragedy and cheating and abuse. That it’s not this – sitting in this car, or running around this town, or notifying the next of kin about their loved ones – that’s not the worst part of his life right now.

“Do you want to come round for dinner, some time?” Ryan hears himself ask. “Meet the kids?”

“Really?”

“Why not?”

“No,” Jake says, fidgeting around in his seat and suddenly making everything seem smaller, the space sucking in on itself. “I mean – yeah. That sounds good.” 

Ryan’s so glad to hear the radio crackle to life, his finger already on the button.

 _All patrols, all patrols, be advised of a robbery in progress on #-#-#. Single assailant and unknown number of hostages -_

*

Ryan’s mum still sings to him. He pours her just enough, can’t watch as she gulps it down, can’t really do anything with the weight of it. With knowing that it’s wrong, and knowing that he’s stupid, and knowing that there will always be a part of him here. The hard shell of his heart chipped a little, and left fragments.

She sings, _Swing Low Sweet Chariot_ , sings until he nudges closer on the sofa and lets her take him into her arms.

It’s the only time he ever feels protected.

*

There’s pie everywhere. Donna and Lino are in hysterics by their car and Jake’s still trying to pick the pie up, tripping over his own feet and apologising like a pre-schooler. Ryan’s had enough. He was late this morning, missed out on breakfast, had to talk an elderly lady down from her clothesline where her cat was perched, and now this.

 _Pie_. 

“You will be completely refunded, I promise you,” Jake’s telling the store owner, whose first language is clearly not English and looks like she’s about to hit him over the head with her broom. “No, no, it’s okay, I’m the police. The – uh – Ryan what’s the Spanish word for police?”

Ryan has his arm folded, and he hopes his face says everything he’s feeling. Jake’s getting good at reading his moods. “She’s not Spanish.”

“Well - ” He throws up his hands, but that may be a defence mechanism. “Give me a word!”

“How about _goodbye_?”

“Right, yeah, goodbye,” Jake waves one hand, rushing through the minefield of pie all over the floor. Steak, Butter, Banoffee, Cream – it’s an absolute disaster. Ryan has no idea what he’s going to write on the report.

“What, nothing for me?” Lino calls out, Donna finishing up her conversation with control.

“I fancied some treacle, actually,” she adds. “A nice shortcrust.” 

“Oh, shut up!” Jake shouts back, and he just looks so stupid, so harassed, that Ryan can’t help it. He laughs. The actual thing had been funny, Jake resting one hand down to accidentally flip a table over and then stepping back only to flip another. The security footage would probably be online tomorrow. Just another video for Jake to add to his list.

“Not you too, bloody hell,” he grumbles, his bottom lip sticking out so far Ryan has a silly desire to pull at it. There are bits of cream in his hair, something smeared on his pants, and when Ryan opens his door for him he can’t help himself, saying,

“Mind your head, cupcake.”

Jake is smiling when he wipes cream off his face, and onto Ryan’s instead. 

*

Corey’s the monopoly master in the Draper house. He tries to pretend he’s not interested, when the box comes out, but half way through a game he’ll push someone out of his way because he’s so frustrated watching them lose.

He does it to Jake, Jake half falling off the couch but his grin so big it’s infectious.

“Oh my God, man,” Corey cries, grabbing up the pieces like he’s the Prime Minister about to address the country. “You’ve got no idea.”

“I’m trying!”

Ryan looks over at Nicky, who’s giggling into her hand. She looks like her mother, like this, a blanket wrapped right around her and her bunny slippers poking out underneath. Monique liked warmth, and comfort. She liked winter, Ryan always joking it was just to spite him.

“You’ve gotta invest. You can’t just sit there, you’re just losing all your money.”

“Show me, Obi-Wan,” Jake says with a laugh, and he flashes a smile at Ryan that clenches somewhere in his chest.

It had been a good night. A good day, really; simple and uneventful. They’d finished up, had a quick session in the gym, and then came home to the kids doing homework and the rice already on the stove. They chatted, got out some wine, and the kids warmed to Jake pretty fast. It felt good.

“You look happy,” Jake says when they’re out on the front step. Ryan could have run him home but he’d insisted on a taxi; standing in the orange light of the porch, shivering in his shirt.

“How do I usually look?”

“Somewhere in the middle?”

Ryan nudges at him with an elbow. “What about you? How’s things with you?”

“Yeah. You know.”

“Your mum?”

“Good, I guess. Still not talking about – I don’t know. It feels like we’re in the 1950s and you just don’t talk about those things, you know? It’s stupid.”

“It’s probably not - ”

“I know. I know it’s not. I just. We could kick him out, we could do it together, but she thinks that she’s a burden on me or something,” Jake says, voice getting faster with every word. “Like, like it’s not the only thing I want to do, just take care of her, and - ”

“Hey, hey,” Ryan has a calming hand on his neck, shaking him gently, getting him to meet his eye. He means this. “She knows. She definitely knows.”

“Yeah,” he says, a breathy sound, his eyes cast down and his smile a little shaky. His hand comes up to cover Ryan’s, his thumb back and forth like he’s not even thinking about it. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Jake,” Ryan says, because they should be looking at each other. He moves his body closer, ducks his head, and when Jake looks up Ryan knows that something has shifted. They’ve just been orbiting until now, so, so slow, and they’ve finally locked into something here. 

Ryan’s not sure who leans in first, or furthest. His hand comes up to cup Jake’s jaw and their mouths are open, slick and warm. Ryan almost feels out of practise. Except it’s comfort, and home, Jake’s hand clenched at Ryan’s waist and their hipbones drawing together. It’s drawn out, unhurried, just the long, twisting taste of their tongues, like the wine and the tart and that thing he’s never tasted before. Something _Jake_.

It’s heated, and promising, the huffing of their breaths through their noses, and when the lights of the taxi cut across the porch Ryan suddenly feels like he’s hit the ground running.

He feels lost.

“I – uh – I’ll see ya later,” Jake manages to say, looking just as dazed as Ryan feels.

“Yeah. Later.”

*

Monique caught Ryan looking at a boy by their bus stop once. He was Native American, long dark hair tied in a plait and beautiful. Ryan hadn’t seen anyone like him. Monique had touched his hand so gently, like he was a wild animal she didn’t want to spook.

She said, “You can look,” with the smallest smile, and the _but don’t touch_ was implied.

He never did. He never wanted to. Not when he was with her. But she was the reason he accepted it. That he knew he could have, were things different, and that it would be okay. That _he_ was okay.

*

Ryan’s never had a rule about dating his colleagues. Then again, it’s never been an issue. There had been a woman who worked in Accounts, and they’d gone on one date, and it hadn’t been the fact that they worked together that had been the issue. It was just everything else. Ryan, mostly, and his overriding guilt that it was all too soon. That it felt dishonest. On Corey, Nicky, their mother’s memory.

Kissing Jake was another thing entirely.

They’re partners, or near enough; they were shoulder to shoulder from day to day and they relied on each other. Not like friends, or lovers, or even family. Something different, separate, and sure, Ryan knows he wants it. He wants to mix it up and get it together, he just isn’t sure that he should.

That maybe Jake deserves better.

“This isn’t working,” Jake says after the third day of fumbling around, being over polite and not touching. Of trying to navigate something when there’s no one behind the wheel, and no coordinates. 

Ryan’s fresh out of the shower after having to chase a perp off the pier, still pulling sand and slime from his ears. All that sits between him and Jake is a towel wrapped around Ryan’s waist, and that’s almost too much for him. He sees Jakes eyes wander down, and feels his skin flush.

“You want to give me a minute?”

“Not really.”

Ryan pulls the towel in a little tighter. “I’ll get dressed, we can grab a - ”

“Just tell me if you want this or not. If you don’t, that’s fine, but I’m not going anywhere or doing anything without knowing, alright? I’ve had enough.”

“Jake, it’s not - ” he starts, but Jake won’t let him finish. He growls, turning on his heel enough to hit his open hand against the wall. 

“You’re all the same. _All the same_ , bloody hell, what’s the point, Ryan?”

“I don’t want to end this with you, but - ”

“End what, it hasn’t even started.”

“I’ve got kids,” Ryan shouts, like the storm has been brewing and now it’s time for the rain. The thunder, the lightning, the loud, scary truths. Ryan taps his bare chest. “I’ve got a wife who still lives in here, okay, and two kids who remind me of her every day and I’ve got – I’m not a great guy a lot of the time, Jake.”

“Who are you trying to convince?”

“It’s selfish. I’m supposed to be your mentor not – I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You kissed me – we kissed each other,” Jake says, and it feels like his own declaration. That he is in this too. It feels like a relief to Ryan, like those nights of laying awake worrying he’d coerced, or blindsided, that Jake was just letting Ryan kiss him. “ _Shit_ , Ryan, what’d you think that’d do? Change nothing?”

“I’m sorry - ”

“Don’t. Don’t apologise for that.”

This time, it’s Ryan’s turn to growl. He moves away a little, feeling exposed, and not just because he has no clothes on. “I wanted that kiss. I want more than that kiss. But I want to know it’s the right thing to want, _for you_ , and I don’t Jake. I don’t fucking know.”

“Bloody hell.” Jake steps in fast, like he’s about to lunge, but then stops. He’s flushed and wired, jittering on the spot, short little huffs of his nose like he’s forgotten how to breathe. “Can you – let’s go out – just. Let’s go out and _I_ can work out what I want for me, alright?”

There’s barely a few feet between them, their gaze locked, and Ryan’s never felt younger, stupider, or more attracted to Jake than he is right now.

“Yeah,” he manages to say, and he can feel the tense line of his shoulders start to unfurl. “Yeah, alright then.”

*

It’s a long week. They fight a lot, on the job, and not because they chatted over pizzas last night or had a beer with Lino and Donna the night before. Not because Ryan caught Reddington hovering over Jake in the hallway, or because Jake pulled Ryan into an interrogation room to explain and the explanation dissolved into messy kisses against the door.

They fight because they’re partners. Because Jake is steadfast and Ryan is stubborn; because Jake wants to book someone and Ryan doesn’t want the paperwork. They fight because Jake is slow, or late, or picking fights with his dad; because Ryan is hard on him about it, and will always be hard on him, because he wants Jake to give it his best. He wants Jake to stick around for a long time.

“Don’t you stand behind me and like, guide my hands where they’re s’posed to be?” Jake says, swinging his pool cue, while Ryan waits for him to take his turn.

“Why? I’m winning.”

Jake snorts out a laugh, and bends to take his shot. He looks comfortable here, he’s relaxed, and maybe it’s the beers but maybe it’s this. Them. Ryan knows Jake prefers the club scene, likes to dance, and that’s something he knows he’ll eventually have to budge on. Jake deserves that, at least.

“What’re the stakes, by the way? Loser’s got reports next week.”

“Loser’s got reports,” Ryan agrees, coming in to take his turn. “ _And_ buys the donuts.”

“You’re on.”

They don’t rush. Veronica’s at the house to sit with Nicky – Ryan lets Corey believe he’s too old to be looked after – and there had been something knowing in her eye when she had said _take your time_. He knows he’s been absent from the house a lot lately, getting carried away, and he’ll work on it.

Jake knows how he feels about telling the kids. He understands.

“So,” Jake says with a little smirk, as Ryan pulls his car into Jake’s driveway. “This was fun.”

“Yeah. It was,” Ryan agrees, one hand still on the wheel and what he hopes is a teasing glance. “I’m looking forward to those donuts.”

“Funny.” He pauses, looking up at the house. “Do you want to come in?”

“Uuuh. I can’t.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I just want to be up for the kids in the morning, and - ”

“It’s fine,” Jake says, but it’s short, and he’s taking his seatbelt off, not meeting Ryan’s eye. “Really.”

Ryan turns the car off so he can lean over and curl a hand around Jake’s thigh. He looks warm, and pliant, and _good_ , but it’s not the right time. Jake’s young, and blithe, and sex is different for him at this stage in his life. It’s a lot for Ryan, and he’s not going to rush it just so he can run home straight after. “I said I can’t, not I don’t want to.”

“I know.”

Ryan removes the space that’s left and kisses Jake, a hand up to grab him and fingers curling in his hair. Jake groans and tips up for it, finds Ryan’s waist so he can dig his nails in and it’s tempting. Their mouths open and wet, the tang of Jake’s beer, and it’s tempting, it would be so easy to give in to it.

“This is happening,” Jake says with his eyes closed, his forehead resting on Ryan’s chin. “Don’t tell me it’s not, Ry, this is - ”

Ryan’s overwhelmed with the epithet, with the gravel of Jake’s voice, his desire. He pulls him in by the collar, as much as he can, kissing him again in a way that would probably make Jake’s mother blush if she happened to walk out of that house. Dirty and biting and leading to something and Ryan has to tear himself away.

“I’ve gotta go,” he says quietly, into Jake’s ear, and he just feels Jake nod as they come in for a hug.

*

Ryan was a policeman first, for a long time. He met Monique at 17, got married at 19, had Corey a year after that. It wasn’t until graduation that he felt like anything – like _anybody_ worth having a wife, a baby, a _real_ family. He clung to it, he wore it in everything he did. He lived by it.

Then Monique had Nicky. She had a bad birth, had a week’s stay in hospital and nearly didn’t make it. It took the _threat of death_ for Ryan to realise that he wasn’t a good husband and father because of his job. He was a good policeman because of his family.

Monique had held his hand in the hospital, a little dopey from the pain medicine, and said, “Constable,” with a twisting smile.

“Captain,” he had said back, but she was just Nique and he was just Ry and nothing had ever felt more important than that. 

He’d thought nothing would feel that important again.

He was happy to be wrong.

*

They work on, and they work up to it, settling into a routine. Jake knows how Ryan takes his tea, his coffee, his brands. Ryan knows what questions to intercept when people ask Jake about his mum, his dad, the solicitor. The job seem to get a little easier – even though they still mess up, they still fight, they still don’t know what’s going to happen with Jake’s position (if the partnership will be permanent).

Even though they’re just as they were. They’re also very different.

Jake’s so real, the most real thing Ryan’s had in his hands in a long time. His body, yes; but not just that. Ryan knows what he’s got, he knows Jake doesn’t do half in; that Jake doesn’t give himself over for nothing. Ryan knows it, and Ryan takes it, and Ryan wants it. He’s pretty sure Jake can see.

“What are you thinking about?” Jake asks, where he’s tucked up next to Ryan on the sofa. They’re at the Vickers’ – his parents are away as part of Jake’s mum’s rehabilitation – and the kids are with Veronica, and Ryan’s not going anywhere. Not any time soon.

“Us.”

“I like us,” Jake says quietly, playing with the collar of Ryan’s shirt. “I mean, I didn’t – I didn’t plan on us.”

“No.” 

“I’ve never been amazed by someone before,” Jake says and then quickly ducks his head, a flush creeping up into his cheeks. “Jesus, is that pathetic?”

“No,” Ryan says again and when Jake looks up, exposes the long line of his neck, the muscles pulling, Ryan is overwhelmed with the need to just reach out and run his teeth along it. So he does.

“ _Fuck_ , Ryan.” Jake hums, his head back and his fingernails digging into Ryan’s bicep. His legs start to fall open and Ryan starts to roll in, and they seem to find their way into a horizontal line, the hard press of their dicks making Ryan’s whole body shake. He feels so new, so useless.

“Shit, we shouldn’t – let’s go to my room.”

Ryan’s seen Jake before – the slim line and the hard muscle and the planes of soft, pale skin. The youth of his frame that he knows will start to grow out as he gets older, as the work carves it out of him. Ryan’s seen Jake before, but not like this, not laid out across a mattress in nothing but his briefs, scrabbling at Ryan’s buttons.

Jake had asked, once, what Ryan’s experience with men was. Which was fine, and Ryan wasn’t ashamed to admit: limited. A few one night stands, lazy hand jobs, an exchange of oral that hadn’t been that memorable. But here, now, it all seems moot. All the sex in the world couldn’t prepare him for Jake.

“You’re gorgeous,” Ryan feels the need to say, taking Jake’s hands to ease his nerves. Jake huffs, and bites his lip and Ryan doesn’t know what else to do but come down onto his elbows to kiss him. Slow, rhythmic, Jake’s arm around Ryan’s neck to hold him in place.

“You too,” he says, and he’s working at Ryan’s fly again, awkwardly pulling his jeans down enough that Ryan can kick them away. Jake lets his hands wander over Ryan’s body, the cool touch of fingertips circling at his nipples. His eyes look hungry, they feast, and he wets his lips like a starving man. “You work hard, it shows.”

“Thank you,” is all Ryan can think to say, and Jake has him again, pulling him in, their bodies strung together, twisting around. They’re just movements and rocks, just the hard thrust of their cocks, warm, just virgins with their mouths open like they don’t know what they’re doing. It occurs to Ryan that this can’t be normal for Jake, that he can’t be this cautious with the men he pulls at the clubs.

“Jake,” he says roughly, unable to resist the temptation of coming in for a quick kiss. “Jake, come on. Tell me where you want me. Show me.”

Jake makes a noise from deep in his throat, almost wounded, panting out an, “Alright, okay,” and getting Ryan onto his back. Ryan feels his hands coming up above his head, Jake’s own hands around his wrists and his face in close. They breathe the same air, for just a moment, Jake watching Ryan’s eyes, his mouth, his eyes, Ryan feeling every inch of it go straight to his dick.

They kiss, and it starts with his open mouth and then it’s his chin and then Jake’s got hands and fingers and his mouth and teeth running the length of Ryan’s body. He feels looked after, cared for, adored, in a way that he hasn’t in such a long time. He feels sheltered.

“I’m gonna,” Jake is saying, hand curled around Ryan’s dick through the cotton of his briefs, “I want to.”

Ryan nods, gasps, says, “Yeah, _yes, Jake_ ,” and when he’s completely naked and sprawled out and watching, heavy lidded, as Jake closes his mouth over his dick, Ryan swears. He swears, and grunts and just hands over his control, just trusts Jake with every piece of him. 

Whatever’s left that he hasn’t already given.

*

They’re out by the pier having lunch, Lino squawking about the injustice of his Fitness Tracker and Jake laughing around his sandwich. There’s something sitting just on his cheek, a fleck, and before Ryan can stop to think he’s reaching out to brush it off.

Jake just nods his thanks and Lino just keeps talking but Donna has her gaze flickering back and forth, back and forth. She’s known Ryan long enough to know about his boundaries.

“Alright?” he says quietly, and he might be talking about her lunch, or the day, but he isn’t. He’s talking about her acceptance, and her discretion.

“Yeah,” she says, and she’s smiling softly. “Great.”

Ryan looks over at Jake, who seems to have caught on, watching them with those discerning eyes. _Great_ , Donna said, and Ryan agrees. “Yeah. It is.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr!](http://thefancyspin.tumblr.com)


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